


Infinity Mirror

by imaginethat_peepshow



Category: Bleach
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gin's mind is a dark and violent place, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginethat_peepshow/pseuds/imaginethat_peepshow
Summary: This is me trying to make sense of what’s going on in Gin’s head while he’s playing double agent. [May add more later.]





	1. In Check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of a soliloquy thing from Gin's perspective.

Know your place. Keep your distance. Stay in line. Keep them in check, keep all of them in check. Most of all… keep yourself in check.

I hate taking orders from that old man, but I know my place.   
I hate walking this road alone, but I keep my distance.   
I hate holding this truth in my chest, but I stay in line.

I love watching them struggle, so I keep them in check.   
The loneliness kills me, but I keep all of them in check.   
My heart will betray me… so most of all I keep myself in check. 

* * *

 

… I do a lot of pretending these days.   
Pretend to follow Aizen.   
Pretend to serve the Seireitei.  
Pretend  _to pretend_  to serve the Seireitei.   
Pretend all the bloodshed doesn’t make me sick.   
Pretend to know myself when I look in the mirror.

When I started down this path as a child, I was so certain. How could I know how all the lies would eat me up inside. Now I don’t dare to imagine how things could have been different. Fantasies of the future will only weaken my resolve.

I pretend not to notice the way you look at me, the way your hand lingers on my arm. I pretend not to see the hurt in your eyes when I turn away.

Sometimes you smile at me and it breaks my heart. Sometimes the pressure of everything I want to say to you feels like it will explode in my chest. I will betray you one day… one day soon. Hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted to do, and every step I take towards you will only make it worse. So no matter how beautiful the time between would be, I hold you at my arm’s length. I inflict this small hurt on you now in hopes of sparing you. Not because it will make leaving easier, but because you will move on faster that way.

I pretend not to see the way he looks at you, the way you smile at each other. I pretend I don’t want to kill him every time I see you together.

Because I know… I know that I have no right to the jealousy I feel. You’ve never been mine and I don’t dare to wish you were. There is no future for us. I can’t possess you and protect you at the same time. I know he’ll be good to you if you have the sense to get past me. Still I want to cut him to pieces. I can’t bring myself to peace with the idea of you building a life with him. I want you to only look at me. I need you to not look at me at all.  

I pretend not to be afraid… but I’m so afraid. Afraid that if I give up just one of these pretense, if I admit to even one truth… all the rest will escape in that breath.

I pretend this lie I’m living is worth losing you. 


	2. Overflow

Most days, the façade was easy. He’d been wearing it for so long, some days he woke up, went about his work, and went back to sleep at night without so much as remembering that he was acting. It was easy to tell lies when they were good enough that even he bought them. Those days were easy. They went fast, blurred together.  

They were scary when he snapped out of it. Lucid days were full of paranoia and anxiety and loathing. Everything was sluggish and hyper-detailed. His thoughts were never still. Seeing her made it worse. She always knew just what to say to make it hard to lie. 

The day she confided that her tag-along lieutenant friend finally confessed his feelings for her, Gin nearly snapped. On a good day he might have been able to laugh it off, but he was stretched too thin. It was too much. Too many layers of deceit to push the words through. The weight of his choices pressed down on his chest, his throat. 

“You like him, don’t you?” He tried to sound encouraging, but it was hard to tell if he succeeded. 

“I guess I do…” She shrugged and looked thoughtful. “He’s a sweetheart, but…” She kept talking but he couldn’t hear any more over the blood rushing in his ears, over the impulse to run him down and cut him to ribbons. What would she say if he did?

“You should give him a chance.” He made himself say, turning away and waving casually to mask any emotion that might have leaked into his voice. If she protested his leaving, he didn’t hear. 

The walk to his quarters felt like a hundred miles. Every step saw the intrusion of a new thought. All his weak lies played out in vivid color. Every passing shadow was someone running up behind him, to confront him for his treachery, to accuse him of his treason, to put him out of his misery. Drowning would have been a blessing under this weight. Finally, looked up to see his bedroom door. The hinges groaned at a familiar tone as he pushed it open. Stepping over the threshold saw much of his tension evaporate. He turned, placing all ten fingertips against the wood, pushed it shut, and collapsed. 

Breaths too heavy for the exertion of walking rolled his shoulders. He wasn’t sweating but his skin was tight and itchy. With some effort he latched the door and sat himself with his back against it. His limbs felt heavy and his jaw hurt from clenching. In truth he wasn’t any safer here, but familiar space held an illusion of privacy strong enough to let the mental walls come down.  
Voices of reason and disgust bickered unfettered in his head. The storm bred of his choices swirled in his ears, behind his eyes. Distorted droplets marred the edges of his vision. Why did the idea of her being with him send him so far over the edge?

 _You know why, dumbass._  Once voice said.  _Get over it._  Said another. 

The imbalance in his circulatory system had another unfortunate side effect. His cock swelled and pushed against his wrist where it lay draped in his lap. He sighed. This was not a good idea. Not when his thoughts were so tangled. Still he yanked at his belt and reached under his waistband. Anything to drain some of the tension from his head, to get just a little of the poison out of his mind.  

A few quick strokes and he was hard, skin screaming with sensitivity. Every time he tried to push her out of his mind, to think about anything else, anyone else. He couldn’t even afford the fantasy of her. Not when Aizen could  _smell_  weakness. This time there was no controlling his thoughts. His discipline cracked open in a wave of images he could barely keep up with. 

He imagined her laid out on his bed, or tied down, or tying  _him_ down, he couldn’t decide. Whether he was worshipping her with tender kisses or fucking her with bed-breaking strength, it didn’t matter. The faces he conjured for her leapt the line of pleasure and pain and back again. It all changed too quickly for him to tell if he liked the idea or hated himself for having it. Fluid leaked steadily from the tip of his cock, spreading with each stroke so the next came smoother. 

His thoughts drifted to Hisagi, a different palette of emotions, but no less intense. He imagined opening his skin with a hundred cuts from his sword, piercing his heart and watching the light fade from his eyes. He imagined fucking her still covered in his blood while she cried. No, those weren’t the tears he wanted from her. He wanted her sobbing with ecstasy as he wrung a tenth orgasm out of her. He wanted her to forget Hisagi’s name, her own name, everything but whatever he was doing to her in that moment. His cock twitched warningly in his hand. What did he want to do to her again? Caress her, choke her, kiss her, mark her, dominate, submit, anything,  _everything_. The back of his head hit the door and his breath shortened to quiet gasps. 

The day’s tension condensed to a burning coal at his core. A few beats of stoking and it threatened to sear through his chest. Then it all rushed out. Hot liquid spilled in to his hand, on his pants. He took what felt like his first breath above water all day.

The voices of reason and survival grew clearer as the ringing in his ears faded. Those feelings were bound to catch up to him eventually. What mattered now was how he dealt with them. All his rampant thoughts were carefully bottled and stored away, another entry in his vast compartmentalization. A wish that would never see the light of day. But it was his, and he would keep it close, closer than any secret he’d kept yet. 


End file.
